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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657289">That Sweater Makes Your Ass Look Great</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jkmac3/pseuds/Jkmac3'>Jkmac3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Are We Moving Too Fast [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Lots and lots of sweaters, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Top Steve Rogers, sebastian stans sweater collection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jkmac3/pseuds/Jkmac3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky and Steve move in together, Bucky has a few more boxes than expected. Lets just say Steve doesn't mind Bucky's collection one bit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Are We Moving Too Fast [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That Sweater Makes Your Ass Look Great</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky couldn’t believe it.</p><p>He was officially living with Steve.</p><p>
  <em>Steeeeve</em>
</p><p>Bucky practically purred to himself, trying to get a grip on his smiling. He really couldn’t help himself. He and Steve had only been dating for just over two months when Steve brought up the subject. And by “brought up the subject”, he means Steve blurted out he wanted to live together while he was knuckle deep in Bucky’s asshole.</p><p>
  <em>Mmmm Steeeeve</em>
</p><p>He honestly would have moved in with Steve as soon as he’d asked, but The Avengers got called out two days later to some crisis in South America that lasted two weeks. By the time Steve had gotten back, with an already healing stab wound Bucky didn’t like to think about, Bucky was able to get the majority of his stuff packed in cardboard boxes that had lined the perimeter of his rather lovely, if cramped apartment.</p><p>Grabbing a handful of frames that had previously hung in his small Brooklyn apartment, Bucky made his way into the living room of Steve’s floor of the Tower. Putting out pictures of he and Becca, and he and Steve, Bucky tried to figure out what he was going to say to her. His baby sister knew he was dating Steve. Just Steve, not Captain America. He hadn’t exactly been hiding the information from her, he just hadn’t had a great opportunity to bring it up. Becca had had to cancel their last four Saturday brunches because her photography class started meeting around the city on Saturday mornings and would be for the rest of the semester. He knew he could’ve called her and invited her over to dinner, and she could’ve met Steve at some point by now, he just hadn’t been ready. The truth was, Bucky just plain wanted to keep Steve to himself for a while.</p><p>Steve was an amazing person. He cared. He genuinely cared about people and their lives. He would never stand by and watch people suffer and he would never stand for bullies. Steve didn’t yearn for justice because of some misplaced sense of righteous morality. He placed fairness and justice above all because he truly wanted the best for everyone. Steve listened when people spoke to him. Looked them directly in the eyes and gave them his attention. There was something heady about having Steve’s attention. All of that focus and concern combined with love and lust aimed directly at Bucky.</p><p>It was addictive, that feeling.</p><p>Wanting Steve was an addictive feeling. Wanting to be near him, wanting to smell him, wanting to feel him. Addictive. Wanting to be held in his arms and be surrounded by the heat coming off of him. There was literally no safer feeling than wanting Steve Rogers. Except maybe knowing that Steve Roger’s wanted Bucky in return.</p><p>So yeah, he knew what Becca was going to say, he just didn’t care. The subject of he and Steve wasn’t up for debate by anyone other than he and Steve.</p><p>Feeling the plates in his left arm shift and whir, Bucky shook off anxious thoughts of Becca’s reaction. He grabbed their water bottles from the fridge, a small box marked Bedroom/Nightstand in thick black sharpie, and headed into the bedroom to help unpack the boxes of clothing Steve was working on. He got to the hallway leading to their room and had to stop.</p><p>“Hey Steve,” he called out, “why are there so many boxes in the hall?” Bucky began picking his way slowly through the mountain of empty cardboard, sliding in between stacks and trying not to send them raining down on his head. “I know I have a lot of stuff, but surely this isn’t all mi-”</p><p>Stepping into the bedroom, Bucky came to a complete halt; his brain scratching and skipping like a record.</p><p>“I just unpacked the boxes that said clothing,” Steve said, eyes alarmingly wide. Bucky couldn’t tell if Steve was concerned he’d done something wrong or if he was concerned with what he’d unpacked.</p><p>Bucky didn’t know what to say. His mouth was making a valiant attempt at moving while his brain was still making white noise. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. He <em>recognized</em> what he was seeing; he just couldn’t figure out how it was possible.</p><p>Sweaters</p><p>There were sweaters <em>everywhere</em>.</p><p>Every possible surface of their bedroom was covered in sweaters Bucky recognized; as though Steve had taken out stack after stack and set them haphazardly around the room as he quickly ran out of space. The stack on the corner of the dresser had tipped over onto the many stacks below, revealing the angora turtleneck with red and black v shaped chevrons. His, not quite Freddy Kruger, red and brown striped cashmere crewneck was sitting on top of the stack at the foot of the bed. His Prada collection: the slate blue and grey hash-mark cardigan, the earth toned diamond ski jumper that seemed a little short in his opinion but really made his biceps look bulgy, and the grey thermal sweater with black shoulder patches, was resting on the bookshelf.</p><p>A gentle throat clearing pulled his attention from cataloging his most prized collection.<br/>“Do you... <em>like</em>... sweaters, Bucky?” Steve asked tentatively.</p><p>Startled eyes flew up to meet curious ones but couldn’t maintain their thorough gaze. Dropping his eyes, Bucky could feel the flush spreading like a fire down his face. It wasn’t until he placed the cool metal plates of his left hand on the angry heat of his neck that he noticed the soft whirring again. It usually only happened when he was feeling anxious or nervous and right now he was definitely nervous. How do you explain to your boyfriend of <em>two months</em> that you aren’t crazy, you just like soft things.</p><p>And you had outstanding taste.</p><p>But right now he knew he needed to explain to the man that probably had three serviceable outfits before the war, that while some might see his collection as excessive, (he knew it could maybe be seen as slightly irrational behavior) it wasn’t and Bucky was going to explain that.</p><p>“Sure?”, is what came out instead; expertly side-stepping the conversation as easily as a few of the cozy stacks of guilt on the floor. He set the forgotten load from his arms onto the edge of the bed. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>Or maybe not.</p><p>“Bucky,” Steve began, his tone of voice letting Bucky know he had know idea where to even begin. He’d never had the opportunity to collect anything growing up during the Depression. Although according to that show Clint is always watching, Steve’s pretty sure they’ve left the realm of collecting behind and are firmly in the hoarding category. Waving his arms around him, Steve tries to indicate the giant, fuzzy, cable knit elephant in the room.</p><p>He cleared his throat, “Well. I uh, I really don’t like, um, being cold,” Bucky stumbled his way through his explanation. “I have a job I have to, um, look professional for …most of the time,” he said, gaining momentum. “Also, my sister belongs to one of those Facebook clothing clubs that gets designer brands for, um, knockoff prices.”</p><p>Steve has no idea what to do in this situation but he knows he just wants to put Bucky at ease. It took him a month longer than he really wanted to work up the nerve to ask Bucky to move in with him. He literally just got him here and he didn’t want to spoil it because Bucky may or may not have a mildly worrying unhealthy love of sweaters.</p><p>“Bucky,” Steve said calmly. “Babydoll. It’s okay. They’re <em>just</em> sweaters, sweetheart. Enough sweaters to fill Woolworth's, but <em>just</em> sweaters.” Steve stepped closer, skirting a larger than average pile at his feet, stepping into Bucky’s space. Sliding his palms down the younger man’s arms, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hands and gently ran his thumbs soothingly over his knuckles. “This is the first day we can officially say we live together, Buck. I’m so happy I finally got my best guy here, nothing can mess that up. And yeah, maybe this is a little...excessive, but I’m a legitimate science experiment born in the 1910’s. Gimme some time and I’m sure I’ll show you a quirk or two… or ten,” he says self-deprecating.</p><p>Bucky was able to relax the more Steve spoke; tension, seeping from his shoulders. He was relieved Steve didn’t think he was nuts; or some creepy hoarder with a penchant for over-priced knits.</p><p>“Thank you for being so understanding, Steve. However, there hasn’t been a Woolworth's in New York since 1997. And did you really say they’re <em>just</em> sweaters?” His confidence returning, Bucky shook his hands free and gently shoved the older man backwards, fully aware Steve only sat on the bed because Steve allowed it. “I’ll have you know,” Bucky said, pulling his thin t-shirt over his head and tossing it over his shoulder to join the myriad of clothes strewn about, “Every one of those sweaters was purchased because it looks <em>amazing</em> on me,” he purred smugly.</p><p>Steve’s eyes follow Bucky’s deft fingers, gleaming metal and strong tan alike, as they slide down his stomach and reach for the top of his jeans. Undoing the short row of buttons, (Steve has decided that he definitely likes this modern version of button fly jeans) Bucky does a little shimmy and his jeans and boxer briefs hit his bare feet.</p><p>Stepping out of the pile, he shrugs into the Prada ski jumper. It stops at his hip bones and so too, predictably, do Steve’s eyes. Turning around and hiding his rapidly swelling cock from Steve’s view isn’t exactly punishing him. Not when the sweater stops short enough to show off the two dimples on his lower back that he knows Steve loves to lick. And certainly not when he presents his ass, perky and perfectly round like a really juicy peach just waiting for Steve to take a bite.</p><p>“As you can see,” Bucky says, turning around again to face Steve. Raising his arms, Bucky flexes. “I bought this one because it makes my biceps look really good.”</p><p>The sweater predictably rises up another two inches or so, revealing his smooth lower belly and the trail of hair leading down to his cock resting at half mast. Steve barely notices the biceps, which do look superb wrapped in the tightly knit yarn, or the smile that sinful mouth was stretched into.</p><p>“Yeah Buck. Your biceps look great. Real good.” Steve’s eyes haven’t left the taut muscles of Bucky’s lower body. Bucky is all golden and toned and sleek. A patch of light brown hair sat just above Steve’s Promised Land™. Steve rationalized that he could name it as it did belong to Steve now, didn’t it? The hair was neatly trimmed back so Steve had an unobstructed view of that thick cock that he wanted to feel the weight of in his mouth pretty much always. Bucky’s cock was slightly shorter than his own, but just as thick. The softest, prettiest pair of balls rested against the backdrop of the thickest thighs Steve has ever had the pleasure of having wrapped around him. He was enamored with Bucky’s thighs. Thighs so thick it was enough to make Steve want to weep. He wondered if he could talk Bucky into smothering him with his thighs.</p><p>Steve did not whimper.</p><p>Dropping to his knees, Steve slowly ran his hands up Bucky’s legs. Combing his fingers through the soft hairs and kneading the hard muscle beneath his finger tips, Steve brought his hands up to cradle Bucky’s hips, his thumbs rubbing needy circles over his hip bones.</p><p>Speaking directly to the smooth skin on Bucky’s abdomen, Steve concedes. “You’re absolutely right Buck,” his hot breath ghosting over the tempting flesh taunting him. “There is nothing <em>just</em> about these sweaters,” he says, looking up at Bucky through aggressively long eyelashes. “This one makes your arms look great,” he says, placing an open mouthed kiss on rippling abs that shudder against his lips. “It makes your waist look ridiculously small,” his grip, bruisingly tight on slim hips.</p><p>Bucky slowly lowers his arms to Steve’s blond head. He wants to watch. He wants to keep looking as Steve’s lips and tongue ghost over his quivering flesh. He wants to burn the sight of Steve on his knees, sucking and licking his way down Bucky’s body into his brain forever. But his head falls back and his eyes drift shut and he can’t think. He can’t think because Steve is biting the meat of his thigh; not enough to truly hurt, but just the right side of pain. Steve’s tight grip suddenly shifts and Bucky finds himself spun around. It takes him a minute to raise his head and open his eyes. Looking back over his shoulder he whimpers.</p><p>Sitting back, low on his heels, Steve had sunk down low enough so his face was inches from Bucky’s ass. He had a firm grip on each mouth watering globe. Giving in to temptation, Steve leaned forward and nipped at the sensitive flesh, kissing each stinging bite soothingly; his fingers gripping and releasing tightly. “And it makes your ass look fuckin’ fantastic, Buck,” he said mesmerized.</p><p>Bucky was trembling. He desperately wanted to lean on something. His knees were about to buckle and the only support he had was Steve's greedy grip on his ass.</p><p><br/>“Buck, I’m gonna need you to grab your ankles or get on your knees, sweetheart. I’m about to eat you out, baby,” Steve says, voice gone husky. “You gonna let me do that? Let me lick this pretty pink hole? Oh Doll, I’m gonna lick and suck and eat your pretty little hole; make it so sloppy and wet for me. Gonna use my tongue like a little kitten, Buck. I’ll lick you up so sweet and soft, make your cunt so loose I’ll be able to sink right in. I’m gonna be able to sink in so easy, aren’t I baby?”</p><p>Steve’s filthy mouth was like a punch to the gut, wrenching a guttural moan out of Bucky. He was feeling incredibly lightheaded, as every ounce of blood in his body had run straight to his dick when Steve decided to use his thighs as chew toys. Unless Steve wanted him to pass out, putting his head down and grabbing his ankles was probably a very bad idea. When his knees buckled and he sank to the floor, Bucky let his forearms take most of his weight. He spread his knees and arched his back, giving Steve a clear, perfect view of his clenching hole. Bucky was grateful he didn’t have to contend with trivial things like gravity and balance anymore. If he was going to make Bucky incoherent, that was all Steve’s responsibility now.</p><p>For all of Steve’s dirty talk, which got filthier the more turned on he got, it wasn’t just talk. Steve was definitely a man of his word. He spread Bucky’s cheeks and dove in like a starving man, running his tongue over the ridgid whorl of muscle he’d labeled as Steve’s Happy Place™. It’s mine, he thought to himself as he lathed and licked, making a mess and feeling it run down his chin. Turning his tongue into a spear, he thrust it past the tight ring of muscle, fucking into Bucky over and over again.</p><p>“You feel so good on my tongue, Buck. Feel you clenching, trying to suck me in. Let me get a couple of fingers in you first, baby and then you can suck every inch of me in.”</p><p>Bucky was having a hard time breathing. He was panting with his face buried in mounds of luxurious cotton. He was on his knees and Steve was working his hole over so perfectly, he was incapable of keeping his hips still. He was rocking his hole back against Steve’s tongue, while simultaneously trying to grind his aching cock into the pile of cashmere under his hips. His stomach muscles kept clenching and his asshole was trying to clamp down on any part of Steve it could get.</p><p>“Please. Oh God, Stevie, please,” Bucky babbled. “I need you, please, more. I need more.”</p><p>“Yeah, Buck, yeah. I got you,” Steve said, chest heaving, two fingers scissoring gently in Bucky’s tight heat. He needed lube. His spit was working fine so far, mostly because Bucky liked a little pain with his pleasure, but anything more and the pain wouldn’t be so little. Slowly working his fingers free of all that glorious heat, Steve glanced over his shoulder.</p><p>“Lube?” he asked, just as he saw the box marked Bedroom/Nightstand.</p><p>“Box ‘n the bed,” Bucky slurred a little deliriously.</p><p>Steve reached for the box, knocking it off the bed and scattering the contents among the sweaters cushioning their knees. Digging around with one hand, because he can’t seem to keep his other from groping the quivering mound of flesh gyrating in his face, he grabbed the almost empty bottle of lube as soon as his fingers brushed against it. Flipping up the cap, Steve poured a generous amount of slick onto his hand before snapping the bottle closed, tossing it over his shoulder, and working three fingers back into Bucky’s greedy hole. He thrust and rubbed, scissoring his fingers, working Bucky open, finishing the job his mouth started.</p><p>Bucky sobbed. He was rutting back against Steve’s thick fingers, trying to take more. “Steve! Now, please!” Both hands pushing off the floor, rocking himself back frantically. “Your cock, Steve! Please, I need your cock inside me!”</p><p>Steve had to force himself to remove his hand from Bucky’s body if he wanted to take his cock from his pants. He really didn’t want to stop touching Bucky. But on the plus side, if he could pull his hand away for 3.4 seconds, he could replace it with his dick!</p><p><br/>Taking a moment to carefully slide his fingers from Bucky’s slippery hole, Steve attacked his belt buckle, ripping at buttons and yanking his shirt up and over his head, out of the way. He reached into his underwear and pulled his cock out, squeezing at the base; feelings warring between instant relief and an aching, mounting need.</p><p>“God, Bucky,” Steve growled, working more slick over his cock; each stroke made him pump his hips up to meet his fist. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby, I swear it.”</p><p>“Now! Please! Do it!” Bucky sobbed.</p><p>Steve gripped his cock and lined up with Bucky’s hole, rubbing the swollen purple head against his slick hole, teasing himself before slipping his cockhead past the tight ring of muscle. Unable to wait any longer, with one hand gripping Bucky’s hip for leverage, Steve sank all the way in. So slowly. His moan yanked out of him, mixing with Bucky’s shout of relief.</p><p>It felt so good. <em>So fucking good</em>.</p><p>Resting his hips flush against Bucky’s ass, Steve held still, giving Bucky time to adjust to his invasion. He wiped his fingers against the bedspread before sliding both hands up Bucky’s flanks, admiring the view. Steve’s warm, broad palms slid up Bucky’s toned muscular torso, pushing the short sweater up around his shoulders. Wandering fingers pinch and pluck at pebbled nipples. The resulting clench around his cock had Steve’s hands grasping the slick skin at Bucky’s hips; keeping him still in a vice like grip. Of course that doesn’t stop Bucky’s hole from fluttering and contracting around him even more.</p><p>“Easy, Buck,” Steve gasped. “I only used three fingers to prep you, sweetheart and you know I’m bigger than that.”</p><p>“Lot bigger,” Bucky moans.</p><p>“Yeah, baby. I’m a lot bigger,” Steve chuckles warmly.</p><p>“Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care,” Bucky moaned. “Move. I need you to move.”</p><p>So Steve moved. He pulled his hips back slowly, trying not to hurt the younger man as he thrust back in with just as much care. He really wanted to let go, to drive into the gorgeous body beneath him, but instead he kept his pace measured. Bucky was so hot. The heat surrounding Steve’s cock was almost too much to bear. He was encompassed in an inferno, a blazing heat so tight he never wanted to leave. God, he wanted to stay here forever, fucking into Bucky. He’s sure no heaven could be better.</p><p>Bucky was in heaven. Every slow drag of Steve’s cock felt more delicious than the last. He was so big and hard and he was filling Bucky so completely. He wanted it to go on forever and yet he needed more. Bucky felt so needy. He was writhing on Steve’s cock, desperate for relief. His neglected, aching cock bobbing and bouncing between his spread legs, the ruddy tip leaking pre-come all over the designer knits under him. Yet it wasn’t enough. He needed Steve to go faster, harder. He needed Steve to let go and truly fuck him. Bucky could take it.</p><p>“Harder, please,” Bucky begged. “I need you to fuck me harder, Stevie. I’m ready, I can take it!”</p><p>“You can take it, Buck? You wanna take it?” Steve asked, picking up the pace. Snapping his hips forward, Steve tightened his hold on Bucky’s hips so he could ride him faster. Twisting his wrists he tilts Bucky’s hips, looking for a better angle. “C’mon, Buck, lemme... just-” Steve hits his sweet spot.</p><p>“Fuck! Oh fuck, yes!” Bucky wailed. “So good, so good. Oh fuck, please, Steve!”</p><p>“That’s it baby. Take it! Take my cock,” Steve growled, thrusting frantically into Bucky’s tight hot passage. “Fuck, you look gorgeous, Doll. So gorgeous taking me like that, all desperate and needy. Like you were born for this, for me. Your mine, Bucky, mine and I can’t get enough of you. I wanna fuck you all the time, be with you all the time. Wanna feel this tight ass gripping me every goddamn second of the day!”</p><p>“Yours! I’m only yours!” Bucky screamed. He was a complete frenzied mess. He felt tears leaking from his eyes. His balls were drawing up tightly and his hole was desperately milking Steve’s dick. He wanted to lift his head and look over his shoulder but instead his eyes rolled back in his head and every muscle in his body clamped down hard. He wanted to warn Steve but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even keep himself upright. Steve had to take all of his weight as Bucky came untouched; thick white ropes of cum painting his thighs and the pile of sweaters beneath him.</p><p>“Yes! Yes, Bucky look at you! So sweet for me, givin’ me that cum.” Steve was ready to explode. Feeling Bucky shake apart, convulsing all over his cock had him right on the razor’s edge. Letting go of his hips, Steve grabbed those perfect ass cheeks in his palms. Pushing and pulling, he worked that gorgeous mound up and down his sensitive shaft roughly. He was chasing his orgasm, seconds away from cumming. “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Buck. Gonna fill this tight cunt up with so much cum it’s gonna leak right outta ya’,” Steve grunted. Bucky fuckin’ loved it when Steve used him for his own pleasure. He always made sure Bucky came too, but when Steve was close, he moved Bucky around like a damn rag doll, putting him exactly where he wanted him.</p><p>“Love you love you love you so fuckin’ much. Oh Shit! M’gonna cum so hard! So fuckin’ h-hard,” Steve cried.</p><p>Finally able to pull his face out of the pile of merino wool, Bucky looked over his shoulder when he felt a flood of hot cum shoot into his ass, just in time to watch ecstasy spread across Steve’s face. He watched Steve’s expression shift from near painful anticipation to utter bliss. Head thrown back, eyelashes fanning sharp cheekbones. Nostrils flaring as the most gorgeous mouth on the planet goes slack. And that body. That ridiculously perfect body tenses, showing off every glorious muscle and making Bucky’s dick twitch.</p><p>“Christ, Buck,” Steve gasped, trying to catch his breath.</p><p>“Yeah,” Bucky agreed.</p><p>“Hang on a second, Buck. Don’t move.” Steve pulled out slowly, rubbing soothing circles on Bucky’s trembling thighs when he hissed quietly. “Sorry baby,” Steve said, sounding more pleased with himself then sorry. He went to the in-suite bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth. Running it gently over Bucky’s sensitive flesh he savored the sounds of contentment coming from his lover. “One more minute, baby, and I’ll have us cuddled up in bed.” Heading back into the bathroom, he rinsed the washcloth in warm water again and ran it gently down his cock and over his balls, ignoring it’s already fattening state due to taking care of Bucky. Tossing the cloth into the hamper, Steve took a moment to clear off the bed, simply shoving all the sweaters to the floor, avoiding Bucky and the piles of cum covered fabric. Sliding his arms under Bucky, who had managed to curl up on his side and watch Steve walk around like David come to life, Steve put him under the covers and crawled in after him. Wrapping his arms around the younger man, Steve cleared his throat.</p><p>“I can really see why you like sweaters so much, Buck,” Steve said, hiding his grin in Bucky’s hair.</p><p>“Ha fuckin’ ha.” Bucky could feel the blush spreading down his neck. “Yeah well, you seem to like my sweaters just as much, caveman,” he said with a cheeky little grin. The smile morphed into a look of confusion moments later. “What I can’t figure out is how they all got here. I mean, I had every intention of bringing them with me. I was just going to shove the boxes in the basement storage and slowly integrate them into my wardrobe,” Bucky said. Sheepishly plucking at the sheets, Bucky mumbled, ”I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”</p><p>“Oh, wait a second,” Steve said, reaching over a pile of cashmere, he grabbed a folded piece of paper off the nightstand and handed it to Bucky. “It was taped to the top of one of the boxes.”</p><p>Sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, Bucky unfolded the paper with a head tilt and a wrinkled brow; curiosity written across his face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>What up, Dick for Brains!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Did you really think that just because we missed a few lunches I haven’t been by your apartment? I use your place as a quick change spot at <em>least</em> once a week.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t pout. You’ll get premature wrinkles and Judge Dredd frown lines.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Besides it’s the cleanest free toilet in Brooklyn and you're on my way between school and work. If I use your shower and eat your leftovers you have no one to blame but yourself; you gave me the key.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Anyway, I stopped by about a month ago and saw framed photos of my big brother and his boyfriend, Steve. Gotta say, big bro, he looked awfully familiar. Later, as I was taking photos of that new statue in prospect park, I realized where I had seen your boyfriend before.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Congratulations on dating Captain America!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I’m genuinely happy for you, numbnuts! At least I was (I still am, jerkface) until I realized you had no intentions of telling me. Then I found out you’re planning on moving in with him! Well there goes my free rest stop!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I’m telling you right now, Bucky. This aggression will not stand!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>So I decided, as the loyal sister that I am, to make sure you had <em>all</em> of your possessions and that nothing got left behind; including the <em>63 boxes of designer sweaters you’ve been hoarding</em>. Your ex-landlord couldn’t thank me enough for reminding the movers that stayed behind while the first load of your stuff was being taken over.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No need to thank me.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>So, whenever you’re ready to release Steve from your loving clutches, I’d very much like to meet him.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>See you soon, Clownshoes!</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>Love You!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The Best Sister Ever!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bucky couldn’t stop laughing as he handed the letter over to Steve. Of course it was Becca. She was way too clever and she never let him get away with anything.</p><p>“Oh, my God! When do I get to meet your sister?” Steve giggled. “Please say it’s soon.”</p><p>Bucky stared in awe at Steve’s giggling face. He got to love this man and be loved in return. And he really didn’t feel like it was too soon to say forever.</p><p>“I love you,” Bucky said, unable to help himself.</p><p>“I Love you too, Buck,” Steve said sincerely. <em>Forever</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes. The sweaters depicted in this story are all sweaters worn by Sebastian Stan.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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